


A Thief and a Cheat

by Liara_90



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Character, Light Dom/sub, Pre-Canon, Smut, Some Plot, Spanking, Yuri, fluffier than it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Emerald is caught cheating on a paper at Beacon, Cinder Fall reminds her of the importance of their mission.<br/>CHAPTER 1 is mostly a pre-canon backstory on how Emerald and Cinder met<br/>CHAPTER 2 is slightly kinky sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this was meant to be a short bit of smut that turned out to have way too much backstory to be proper PWP. So think of it as one-half writing exercise, one-half smut, and read as such. Trying to improve my skills as a writer so feedback is welcome. We need more RWBY!

The cafeteria had stopped serving dinner an hour after Emerald Sustrai finally was freed the mind-numbing hellscape that was Professor Goodwitch's detention class. She suspected the low-level rumbling in her stomach was meant to be part of the punishment - for a girl with a metabolism as fast and demanding as hers missing a meal might as well have been torture. Emerald would've added Goodwitch's name to The List if it hadn't already been there. Cinder was very particular as to whom would deal with Goodwitch when the time came, so schemes for elaborate pranks had replaced bloody revenge fantasies in Emerald's mind. When she'd been shanghaied into this crazy infiltration gig she'd had no idea just how hard playing a rule-abiding exchange student would be.

"You missed dinner," called out an impossibly smug voice from down the hall. Emerald spared only a backwards glance at the two-legged annoyance Cinder had partnered her with, eager to get back to her dorm and whatever food she could scavenge there.

"How nice of you to save me something," shot back Emerald. Her hand was still cramped from writing 'I will not copy the works of others' a thousand times - what kind of sadist made people write in this day and age, anyways? - and she had little energy to deal with Mercury's jibing banter. The soft slaps of her dress shoes against the floor seemed to echo in Beacon Academy's cavernous hallways. She could hear Mercury increase his stride to catch up with her, groaning internally at his insistence to occupy the same physical space as her.

"I did, actually," said Mercury, sliding up beside her. He tossed a bright red apple several feet in the air, lazily tracking the fruit's trajectory before easily catching it on the downswing. Emerald's eyes darted over involuntarily, a sense of elation rising in her and falling just as fast as she spotted the apple's missing chunks.

"You're an ass."

"Hey, you were in there a while; I got hungry. They don't do second servings at Beacon, you know." He stuck his arm out to the side and let the half-eaten apple rest on the palm of his hand. "Still hungry?"

"Dust, you're almost as annoying as Torch-." The name died on her lips, Cinder's incessant warnings coming unbidden to her mind. Mercury shot her a cautious glance. Even in Beacon's deserted hallways it did no good to associate themselves with Remnant's Most Wanted.

The two walked wordlessly for several minutes, Mercury's impossibly-loud chewing filling the silence. Emerald involuntarily slowed down as they approached the section of the dormitories housing the Mistral exchange students, none-too-eager for the conversation awaiting her behind their dorm room's walls.

"Cinder is going to be pissed," teased Mercury, picking up on her recalcitrance almost immediately. "You've been here for a few weeks and you're already got a demerit on your record. And you're probably on Goodwitch's personal shitlist, too."

"First off, fuck you, and second, Cinder doesn't do, 'pissed'," retorted Emerald. 'At least, not 'pissed' the way most people do it.' Memories of the last time Cinder had confronted her on her shortcomings replayed themselves in her mind's eye. No screaming. No yelling. No throwing things. Because that would be easy. A shiver ran down her spine, though she was able to hide her emotions. No sense letting Mercury think he had a shot at being The Favorite One.

The two were utterly silent as Emerald unlocked the door to their dorm room, the young woman careful not to show any overt hesitation. 'You haven't even talked to Cinder and you're already torturing yourself with mind games. Get a grip.'

As expected, Cinder was alone in the room, leafing airily through a library book. She was still in the uniform of Haven Academy - a form-fitting black jacket with a grey-and-black checkered skirt - and spared a cursory glance as her two 'classmates' entered.

"Emerald, dear, you're back late," said Cinder, her unhurried tone bordering on a drawl, while her eyes continued skimming the pages beneath her.

"I, um, I was in detention," she awkwardly confessed, one foot slipping behind the other while a hand rubbed the back of her neck. If Cinder was surprised or annoyed by the revelation - if it was even news at all - no trace of it crossed it her face.

"Hmm," Cinder mused absently. For several seconds the dorm room was deathly quiet, as neither Emerald nor Mercury knew what would happen. Cinder, of course, strung the tense uncertainty out with effortless ease, letting the ambiguity make her subordinates all the more eager to hear her words.

"Mercury," she finally said, flicking a page with a graceful finger. "I've sent you a list of files I'd like retrieved from the Beacon information network." She locked eyes with him, wordlessly communicating that this was not a task to be deferred until tomorrow.

"I'll…. get right on it," replied Mercury after a pregnant pause, gesturing to the door before showing himself out. Only when the click of the electronic lock engaging resonated through the room did Cinder close the cover of her book, carefully placing it on her nightstand.

"I suppose you missed dinner while you were in Professor Goodwitch's detention," said Cinder, standing up. 

"It's okay, I…. wasn't that hungry," muttered Emerald, not wanting to be seen as trawling for sympathy. She couldn't prevent her stomach from betraying her, though, the treasonous organ taking the moment to emit a wailing gurgle.

Cinder let out a vaguely dismissive snort before standing up from the bed, striding purposefully over to her desk, from where she retrieved a small Styrofoam container. Wordlessly, Cinder handed the box to her minion, whose crimson eyes ballooned in size upon discovering the hamburger and fries inside. The meat was almost cold and the aroma had long since dissipated , but that didn't deter Emerald from scarfing down the meal with the ferocity of a Beowulf. "Thank you so much, Cinder," Emerald belatedly remembered, the words mumbled from her half-filled mouth.

"While Beacon's cafeteria continues disappoint in terms of nutritional content," said Cinder, watching the young girl across from her wolf down the last of the fries, "I can't have you skipping meals now, can I?"

Cinder's words effortlessly brought feelings of guilt to the surface of Emerald's mind. She stared down at the crumbs in the disposable container on her lap, remembering a time when she would've licked up every one of them. A time when she didn't have access to Beacon's cafeteria, or the generous contract Cinder had made with her, dependent entirely upon the fleeting generosity of strangers or her own sleight of hand for her next meal.

*******************************************

She was nursing a twisted ankle in an unnamed alley in some Grimm-cursed city of Vacuo. She couldn't remember the name of the city, only the names of the streets and the stores, where the fences and ladders were, which shopkeepers were alert and which were half-blind. The last time she'd been chased she'd missed a step - damn sand - and had been limping every since. Even if she had the lien there was no way she could go to a hospital, not with the cops ready to send her to a juvenile prison the next time they caught her. She couldn't run - could barely walk, truth be told - and had resigned herself to picking through dumpsters and trash cans for food, sometimes daring to swipe leftovers off the table of one of the city's outdoor cafes.

But it wasn't enough. The city hated thieves with a passion. Dumpsters were locked to prevent her from scavenging. Security guards beat her with batons for loitering. A drunken transient nearly raped her in her sleep when she'd collapsed of exhaustion in an abandoned construction yard. And she was starving.

The hunger had been gnawing at her for days now, and while Emerald knew how to ignore it, mental discipline could only go so far. She wasn't feeling sick yet, which was a small mercy in itself, but knew it was only a matter of time before her mind and body just couldn't function anymore. So she got desperate. Tried to clean up her face and her clothes as much as possible, though nothing would get the dirt out at this point. She tried not to attract attention as she slipped into the portside marketplace, walking like she had a destination but wasn't in a hurry to get there. Hopefully the smell of the sea would mask her odor. Her distinctive green hair was hidden beneath a monochromatic bandanna - that seemed to be the fashion at the moment - but the color of her skin and her eyes still stood out in Vacuo, made her that much harder to forget, that much easier to spot.

She eyed her target - a small vendor selling fresh fruits from Atlas - and slowed her pace, slipping next to an older man who was perusing each shop front at a leisurely pace. A gaggle of faunus was coming up behind her…. If everyone kept moving at the same pace, she'd be at one end of the storefront just as the faunus approached the other. With any luck, the owner would be more concerned about the animals sniffing about than a harmless teenage girl.

A bag of apples. Her eyes were transfixed by the dozen-odd fruits sealed in a plastic bag. It was more than she could palm, true, but in one fluid motion she could have them in the jacket she was wearing. Some part of her mind knew she was getting greedy, taking needless risks… but hunger was muscling in on whatever part of her brain calculated risks and rewards. She was a few feet away, mentally rehearsing the exact muscle movements, figuring out at which angle to place her fingers, how to effortlessly pivot away and vanish around a corner.

One hand slipped out of her pocket. Her other arm stretched above her head, staying there for a moment before scratching her head. It was a magician's trick - draw the eye elsewhere - but it worked as often as not. The fingers of her free hand curled around the bag's plastic skin, and she effortlessly lifted them off the stall. She slipped the bag across her body and under her open coat, using her other arm to keep the bag in place while she quickly fastened the jacket shut.

She made it all of five steps before shit hit the fan.

"Hey, stop that thief!" someone yelled. Emerald didn't waste time looking to see who. She took off at a sprint, throwing her small body in the gap between two stalls, popping out into a service alley behind. She let out a short yell of pain as a burning sensation flared from ankle to knee. Grimacing through the pain, Emerald ran down the alley as fast she could. There was a liquor store with a rooftop ladder a half-block away. She could climb that ladder even when it was locked, cut cross the rooftop, drop down to an alley on the other side of the block and than vanish into the busy intersection. She yanked off the bandanna as she ran, her foot screaming for attention even as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Thirty paces to the ladder. She tried to judge which leg would be in front when she reached the wall, how she'd-

>

A wooden baton hit her in the stomach, causing her to face-plant into the dusty street. She couldn't breathe. The pain in her foot was all but forgotten as she tried desperately to inhale, but she couldn't get air into her lungs. Her mouth was wide open but she couldn't breathe…

The second and third blows landed on her shoulder and back, respectively, though she barely noticed. After what seemed like an eternity a trickle of air made its way down her throat, though she coughed and choked as she inhaled a mouthful of sand with it. Someone stepped on her ankle and she screamed in pain, though the noise was more an elongated grunt than a piercing wail.

"Got her," a man's voice called out, yanking her upright by her hair. Emerald tried to stand but her injured foot immediately gave out. She collapsed to one knee, with the man still pulling her hair out by the roots with his grip. Through tear-streaked eyes she made out another man in front of her, whose hands roughly groped about her body until he pulled out the bag of apples.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The sound of hands clapping - politely, too - was so out-of-place that it reached Emerald's conscious mind ever through the terror and the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. Blinking away tears, Emerald made out the figure of a woman in red. She wore a carmine-colored dress that was very clearly not from Vacuo, and her visage was framed by the dark black headscarf wrapped loosely around her face. Her skin, unlike that of just about anyone who lived in sand-swept Vacuo for very long, was utterly immaculate. But it was her eyes, burning with a fire Emerald could not name, that transfixed her.

She was an angel and a demon, righteousness and power synthesized and given flesh.

"Bravo, gentleman," the woman said, her voice an elegant drawl, practically dripping with authority. "This little runt has proven to be a greater handful than even I anticipated."

As the burning in her lungs subsided and her breathing returned to…. normal-ish…. Emerald had the presence of mind to wonder just what the hell was going on. Strong men were pinning both of her arms, and a small crowd had gathered around them, perhaps eager to dish out some impromptu justice. The authorities, such as they were, had long since given tacit approval to vigilante actions.

"You… you know this little bitch?" asked one of the men holding her in place.

"Regrettably, yes," said the woman, closing the distance between them with a few elegant steps. Her body flowed with perfect efficiency, not a single movement was wasted, her slightest motion executed with the precision of a ballerina.

And how she lied. Emerald always liked to think she could spot a liar or a scammer from a thousand yards, but there was not a hint of deception in the woman's tone, no sign of a tell or nervous tick. Emerald's brow furled as she wondered if they really had met.

The woman's fingers - a musician's, surely - cupped Emerald's chin. The young girl remained perfectly still, not daring to breathe as those eyes bore into her.

"…..well this friend of yours just tried to shoplift a….."

…She really wanted to get closer to those eyes…

SLAP!

Emerald let out an involuntary cry of pain as the woman's hand slapped her across the face. The whole side of her face was afire as tears welled in her eyes. She was too confused, too stunned to even begin to process what was going on.

"You worthless little bitch!" The woman spat, slapping her across the face one more. Emerald was too weak, physically and emotionally, to do anything but shudder out tears. SLAP! Even the men holding Emerald were too surprised by the viciousness to say anything. "We gave you everything, everything!, and this is how you repay our kindness?" SLAP!

Emerald coughed as the tears streaked down her face, precious moisture returning to the desert. She felt the woman's fingers curl around her head and yank back, forcing her to stare straight up at the sky. The woman in red towered over her, eyes ablaze, lips pursed in silent fury. Emerald tried to plead, to beg, but the words died on her quivering lips. She felt like she was going to black out, let exhaustion overtake her, when the strangest thing happened.

The woman in red slipped her a smile.

It was so small, so fleeting that Emerald would have missed it altogether had she not been utterly captivated. It was not a smile of pleasure, or sadism, but one of camaraderie, of trust and reassurance. And with a smile, Emerald's world began anew.

"Gentlemen, you have my sincere thanks for catching this runaway," said the woman, releasing her grip on Emerald's hair. The girl's head fell forward, her gaze coming to rest on the woman's feet. Feet she would've thrown herself at had she been free to do so. There was a rustling sound, as the woman withdrew a small wallet and handed one of the men a note of lien in a denomination very rarely seen in these parts. "I trust this is adequate recompense for your troubles?"

"Um, yes ma'am, more than enough," stammered the man, almost unable to believe his luck. The two pairs of arms holding Emerald in place released her, causing her to collapse to the ground again. A moment later she was on two feet again, the woman yanking her upright by her hair. "Are you sure you're going to be alright with her, ma'am? It seems like quite a burden, taking care of a runt like that."

"Thank you for your concern," replied the woman, gracing him with a soft smile, "but save your pity for her," another tug on Emerald's hair, "for when she returns home."

******

The woman force-marched Emerald another four blocks, dragging her by the hair the whole way, Emerald limping in an effort to keep weight off her bad foot. Once they were out the marketplace, though, she let go, wordlessly instructing Emerald to keep pace with her. Emerald complied, not daring to attempt an escape, not when there were still so many who knew her face and hungered for revenge. They walked in silence for the better part of twenty minutes, no concessions made for Emerald's injured foot, until they approached an upscale hotel in district of the city Emerald had drifted through only once or twice. She felt a hundred pairs of eyes track her as she followed the woman across the plush lobby, though nobody moved to stop her. Only when they were inside the woman's room - easily the most luxurious four walls Emerald had ever been contained by - was the silence broken.

"Sit," instructed the woman as she unraveled her headscarf, gesturing to a bed larger than Emerald had ever slept on. Emerald sat on as little of the bed as possible, knowing how her clothes would sully the pristine white sheets, but let out a moan of pleasure as the weight on her foot was alleviated. The woman returned moments later with an aluminum bucket filled to the brim with ice, setting it at Emerald's feet. When the mint-haired girl remained utterly still, the woman took Emerald's bad foot, discarded her cheap sandal, and stuck it in the bucket. 

The sensation was simultaneously torture and ecstasy, Emerald wincing in pain even as a pleasurable shudder ran up her leg. The woman seated herself in an elegant armchair opposite her, crossing one perfect leg atop the other. When Emerald's body finally stopped oscillating between pleasure and pain she picked up the cue that she was supposed to say….something.

Why did you save me? Why did you hit me? Why did you take me here? Why did you spend so much lien on me? "Why?"

The woman was apparently nonplussed by the vagueness of Emerald's question, examining her manicured fingernails for any signs of dirt. "Because, Emerald, you have something I need."

"H-how… how do you know-"

The woman dismissed the question with an airy gesture. "You have quite a police record to your name, Emerald, even if it is lacking some biographical details." She paused. "Dozens of counts of shoplifting, pick pocketing, breaking-and-entering. You've escaped two orphanages and a juvenile detention center. No known family, no known affiliates, and you don't work as part of a gang. And that's just what the police are aware of."

"I work better on my own," Emerald offered back, though that was something of a half-truth.

"I feel the same way more days than not," the lady agreed. "Though, of course, there are times when we must work together to compensate for our own shortcomings."

"What do you mean?" asked Emerald, not entirely following the conversation. There was something so surreal about this, like she'd hit her head and her subconscious was playing a particularly sadistic game with her dreams.

"From your position, Emerald, you're done very well for yourself. You're an exceptional thief, though a recent injury has somewhat handicapped you. But you know you'll never escape, don’t you? In Vacuo, everyone knows your name, your face. You have no one to reconnoiter for you, no one to fence stolen goods to, no one to watch the police or find shelter for you. There's a ceiling to how high any soul operating on their own can rise, and you are very fast approaching it. And one of these days - assuming you don't starve to death - the police are going to catch you, and put you in a prison you can't escape from." The lady in red surveyed Emerald. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Emerald was silent, but her silence spoke for her. Her eyes stared emptily down at her foot in the bucket of ice. It had gone completely numb from the cold.

"Why do you steal, Emerald?" asked the woman, and Emerald knew from her tone that this question needed an answer.

"Because I'm hungry," she replied, offering the same easy rationalization she'd repeated to herself night after night. She didn't really feel bad about stealing, but in her more introspective moments her mind occasionally demanded some justification. "Vacuo isn't like Vale, or even Atlas, where you can get food just for being poor. It's still…. survival of the fittest out here."

"Hmm." Emerald looked up, and realized the woman had never stopped looking at her. She swallowed. "Emerald, why do you really steal?"

Emerald's toes curled in the bucket, and the tinkering of ice cubes echoed through the room.

"Because I like doing it," Emerald finally admitted, to both the woman and herself. The room was silent for several seconds, before Emerald's emotions overtook her. "I could have joined one of the street gangs long ago. I could have whored myself out by the docks, let ugly men fuck me for a fistful of lien. I could've gone back to the orphanage, apologized for my sins, bite my tongue. There's a guy who sells fish I could've blown for free food, another who'd let me sleep in his garage if I let him call me 'Lapurra' while he fucked my ass. But that's not who I am, okay? I'm more than a survivor, dammit! I'll fight for what's mine, and anyone who stands in my way is going to get knocked the fuck down!"

Without realizing it, Emerald's voice had risen to a bellow, only to the crack on the last words. A feeling of pure rage had boiled inside her, and, given at opening, finally burst. She wanted to scream, to run, to break something. But instead she cried. Cried like she hadn't in years, burrowing her face in her arms and letting the sobs wrack her body.

It was a long time - though how long, she had no idea - before Emerald's sobs died down into a fit of choking coughs. She felt the mattress depress beside her as the woman sat down. Emerald couldn't imagine what she was thinking. She'd just humiliated herself before a total stranger, barred her soul to someone she knew nothing about. But it felt…. it felt right.

A hand slipped around her arm and grabbed Emerald's face, though there was no roughness to it. The woman's hand moved as if she was handling a priceless relic, undeterred by the moisture coating Emerald's face. Emerald let herself be guided until she was facing the woman. The tears were still wet on her cheeks, but she was utterly silent.

"I am going to make you a deal, Emerald, so I want you to listen very carefully to me. My name is Cinder Fall, and I run an organization that has need of someone of your talents. I don't expect you to work for me simply because I saved you back at the marketplace, nor do I want you to believe this is some sort of charity. I am willing to pay you a flat rate of 5,000 lien per month for the retention of your services, in addition to a 20,000 lien signing bonus. Furthermore, I will personally train you in the application of your Aura and in the application of Dust to combat. In exchange, I will assign you a series of tasks which I expect you to complete without failure. These missions may be time-consuming, dangerous, and illegal. If you disobey my orders, our relationship will be terminated, and you will become a loose end to be tied up." Cinder's flaming eyes bore into Emerald's; the girl felt her breath catch in her throat. "Otherwise, we will go our separate ways and never think of this encounter again. What would you like to do, Emerald?"

They were so close that Emerald could feel Cinder's breath on her face, and it was as intoxicating as the most heavenly perfume. She felt her soul opening up to the woman more and more with each passing second, her heart pounding maddeningly in her chest.

"I… I would love to work with you," breathed Emerald, never questioning why her brain had gone with that specific word.

Cinder said nothing, but let out a soft smile. Still holding Emerald's face in her hand, she closed the distance between the two of them until it was practically-

They kissed.

It was not a long kiss, or a forceful kiss, just a simple pressing of one pair of lips against another. It was one fluid, graceful motion, so much like Cinder that Emerald's mind was stopped by the paralyzing beauty of its perfection. Cinder pulled back, and Emerald let out the tiniest of breaths. A moment, both fleeting and eternal, passed as they stared into each other's eyes. Then Emerald kissed back, with a passion she hadn't thought possible. She poured her soul into that kiss, all her love and rage and hope shared across her lips. A warmth - so different from the heat of the sun - washed over her body as she felt Cinder push into her in turn. For a moment, the fire of their kiss was the brightest light in the universe.

After the kiss was broken… Emerald had no idea how long she stared into the grandiloquence of the woman across from her. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, all Emerald knew was that she had found her life in Cinder. A wrapping of knuckles on their hotel room door jolted her back to Remnant. Cinder gave her a small smile as she stood up, running her hand through green strands of hair as she strode over to the door.

"I hope you don't mind, I ordered room service," said Cinder. Emerald tried to say something, but her brain failed her. A few moments later, Cinder returned to the bed bearing a silver tray laden with an assortment of exotic dishes Emerald could never have named. Her stomach let out another rumble.

"I can't have you skipping meals now, can I?" Cinder said, with a faint laugh. The warmth of her loving expression washed over Emerald, who offered a positively idiotic smile in return.

Only when she looked down to survey the tray did she spot her injured foot again. And note that the ice that had filled the bucket minutes before had been melted entirely to water.


	2. Transgressions and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the author tempts Fate once more by attempting to write smut.

Cinder stood up, closed the distance between herself and Emerald, and gently plucked the empty styrofoam container from the younger girl's hands. Emerald shrunk into herself as she did, strangely humbled by Cinder's authority. Cinder had never revealed her true age to Emerald, but she couldn't have been more than a few years older. They wore the identical uniforms of Haven Academy - dark black tunics and grey-and-black checkered skirts - and Cinder was wearing simple dress shoes rather than the intimidating stilettos she preferred. Emerald shouldn't have been scared by Cinder, but the way the woman composed herself…. she created an atmosphere of authority wherever she went.

Cinder dropped the container into a small trash can, then turned to face Emerald. The green-haired girl sat up straight with her hands clasped in front of her, trying her best to look like the obedient student she was supposed to be. Cinder let out a barely perceptible sigh before returning to Emerald, standing over the girl and running her fingers through her hair.

"It's hard for you, isn't it?" she asked, though Emerald knew it wasn't really a question. "Spending seven hours a day in a classroom, forced to pay attention to some fossil of a professor. Then spending hours each evening studying for tests you couldn't care less about, writing reports on irrelevant topics."

"It's…. different from what I'm used to," Emerald conceded, trying to keep her breathing steady as Cinder gently massaged her scalp. "I'm a free spirit, always have been. I know this is important to your plan, ma'am, it's just…"

"Not as much fun as infiltrating secured buildings…. or tying up loose ends?"

"You could say that," agreed Emerald.

"But you remembered that when I hired you, you swore to follow my orders at all times, perfectly, regardless of your assignment or personal feelings?" Cinder's hand slipped out of her hair.

"Yes, of course, I just…. didn't think it was so important that I-"

"Don’t think. Obey."

Cinder's voice was hard as adamantine, and a shiver raced down Emerald's spine.

"First there was the incident at Tukson's, where you went against my explicit orders to keep your hands clean. And now you're cheating on assignments at Beacon." Cinder didn't yell, because Cinder never needed to yell. Soft-spoken as her words were, there was no masking the raging fury beneath them. "May I remind you, Emerald, that such behavior could very well get you barred from participating in the Vytal Festival, or even expelled altogether? Can you understand how such careless could jeopardize our entire plan?"

"You know I would never do anything to sabotage you! Please, let me-"

"Up."

Emerald was on her feet before her conscious mind processed the words. She stared into the inferno behind Cinder's eyes, trying not to melt.

"Go to your desk and bend over it." Cinder's tone made it clear that there would be no questioning the order, unusual as it was. Emerald tentatively positioned herself over her effectively-unused desk, resting on her forearms.

"Lift your skirt up."

Emerald hesitated - for a fraction of a second - before flipping the skirt up over her hips, leaving her white-colored panties fully exposed for Cinder to see. Emerald wasn't particularly self-conscious about showing skin, but the vulnerability of her position made her feel all the more exposed. She couldn't see Cinder, but she could hear the always-so-precise footsteps of her lady coming up behind her.

Cinder's hand came to rest on Emerald's bottom, lazily playing across the fabric of her underwear for a few seconds before her fingers hooked the edges and pulled down. Emerald bit her lip as her undergarments came to rest around her knees. Cinder's hand resumed its gentle traversing of her buttocks, though now her fingers drifted father south, and closer to the middle, than before. The tactile sensations nearly made Emerald quiver, so fine and delicate a touch was hers. Had the young woman not been terrified that her boss was losing faith in her she'd have been completely aroused. So she tried to remain absolutely still, to do whatever Cinder wanted her to do, to prove that she was unflinching in her loyalty.

SLAP

Cinder's open palm collided with Emerald's ass cheek, causing the girl to wince in pain, though she remained silent. She tried not to focus on the tingling sensation in her cheek but on the pleasurable reverberations that any contact with Cinder imprinted on her. 'This might not be too bad'.

It was out of the corner of her eye that she spotted Cinder clutching a wooden ruler, and her heart plummeted a little. A wooden ruler would have none of Cinder's intoxicating touch, no trace of her eloquent fingers or soft nails.

"I'm going to hit you fifty times with this ruler, Emerald. If you make a noise, or any move to avoid a strike, we resume counting from the beginning. If you'd like to stop, you can pack your bags and leave at any point. But I need you to demonstrate your commitment to me."

"Y-yes, ma'am. I won't let you down," swore Emerald.

And disappoint Cinder she did not.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

The first five or so strokes Emerald did little more than twitch. Pain was something that just came with the territory of training to be a Huntress. The beatings she'd received throughout her life were a hundredfold worse, and she knew Cinder would never permanently injure her.

Smack. Smack.  
Smack.

By the time she'd counted to fifteen she was suppressing grunts of pain, her fingertips pressing hard into the desk's wooden surface. Cinder was taking her time, too, pausing between slaps to examine her handiwork; if Emerald was lucky, Cinder would gently caress some of her ever-reddening skin for a few moments.

Smack. Smack.

By twenty-five her knees were unconsciously drifting together and her toes pointed inwards. Hands balled into fists as the unyielding wood slapped her ass again and again and again and again. She was beginning to see why this was so hard: in a fight, or even a beating, she could resist, push back, shield herself. Here she was intentionally leaving herself fully exposed, doing nothing to soften the blows. There was no adrenaline pumping in her veins to numb the pain, no other sensations but the hard desk beneath her to distract her from the strokes.

Smack.  
Smack.  
Smack.

Cinder picked up the pace and the severity of the strokes, leaving Emerald biting her lower lip in pain. Tears were pooling in her eyes against her will, but she did nothing to protect herself. Every stroke stung her more and more than the last, and it took all of the young girl's willpower not to let out a pathetic mewl.

Smack  
Smack  
Smack

An uncounted number of strokes later, Cinder's hand came to rest on Emerald's bottom, that impossible-fine touch tracing the brightened strips of skin. This time Emerald allowed herself a low groan, the hyper-sensitivity of her skin only amplifying the intoxicating sensation of Cinder pressing against her.

"Ma'am, did I-"

"Don't talk," barked Cinder. With her free hand she moved the ruler that had just spanked Emerald's ass and placed it in front of the girl's mouth, before forcing it between her teeth. "Don't let go of this."

Emerald said nothing as the implement was placed in her mouth, her tongue picking up the faint taste of wood. The humiliation of being forced to hold in her mouth the tool that she had just been beaten with burned inside her, but it died seconds later as Cinder's hand reached between her legs and began gently stroking her outer folds.

"Ummmgm." The ruler almost fell out of her mouth right then and there as Cinder began massaging the edges of her labia, doing for Emerald what no woman had ever done. Living a solitary life as a wandering thief hadn't given her many opportunities to pursue Sapphic romance, after all.

"You," said Cinder, sliding up against her to murmur softly in her ear, "are going to do exactly what I instruct of you. No shortcuts, no cheating, no half-measures, and no freelancing. Do I make myself clear?" Cinder's strokes were becoming more deliberate and forceful, and Emerald struggled to keep her eyes open, let alone her higher reasoning functions. "Because I can be very, very good for you, dear," continued Cinder in a whisper, purring into Emerald's ear, "but I can also be very, very bad."

Cinder's hand snapped back from Emerald's crotch and slapped the woman hard across the ass, both the force of the blow its surprise causing Emerald to bite into the ruler as she let out a yelp of pain. Before she could catch her breath the hand was back between her legs, a finger stroking either side while a third began pressing on her clitoris. "Understand, Emerald?"

"Ymmf, mnm," grunted Emerald through the ruler between her teeth. Reality was slipping in and out of focus as Cinder began teasing inside her folds, one hand pushing tentatively inwards while the other continued its lazy massage.

Emerald had fantasized about Cinder, let images of the woman dominate her thoughts while she pleasured herself, but she had never been able to fantasize a scenario such as the one playing out right now. She could never bring herself to imagine a specific scene wherein her mentor pushed inside her, not wanting to give voice to such overpowering desires even in the privacy of her own mind. As two of Cinder's fingers slipped inside her Emerald experienced a sensation she couldn't possibly have imagined, felt her whole body aglow with pleasure as Cinder's strokes grew faster and more powerful.

The hand that had previously simply massaged Emerald's crotch now flew to the back of the girl's head, grabbing her by her mint-colored hair just as Cinder slid another finger inside the woman. This was what Emerald needed to feel, to be loved and controlled, to have her worlds of pain and pleasure blur together until such distinctions became meaningless. Cinder's touch, whether pressing her clit or slapping her ass, was pleasure. Cinder was purpose, Cinder was salvation, Cinder was love. The older woman's fingers pumped in and out of her vagina with ease, pressing against flesh only Emerald had ever touched.

The warmth blossomed within Emerald, spreading from her crotch to her thighs to her chest, before washing over her whole body. In that moment, she knew the world could burn to the ground and she'd still be at Cinder's side.

Cinder noted the orgasm coursing through her minion's body and slowed her own movements, not wanting to drive the girl into over-sensitivity. For all her villainous faults, Cinder was a very considerate lover to those she chose to pleasure. A small smile played across her face as Emerald's mouth slipped open and the ruler clattered to the desk - so deep was the woman in the throes of orgasmic ecstasy that didn't even notice.

"Who do you belong to?" asked Cinder, her voice soft as silk as a finger drifted slowly within Emerald. The younger girl easily followed Cinder's movements, pressing against her in a ride of pleasurable aftershocks.

"You… my lady," murmured Emerald, her mind in a trance-like state between consciousness and dreams, the words forming on her lips like a chanted mantra.

"What will you do for me, Emerald?"

"A…..anything. My life is yours," cooed her minion, savoring the pressure Cinder applied to her skin.

"Who do you love, Emerald?"

"You….. you alone and above all others…."

Cinder continued stroking Emerald for several minutes, extending the pleasurable buzz for as long as possible before carefully separating herself. It was the better part of a minute before Emerald's dark red eyes fluttered open - were it not for the awkward angle at which the desk jutted into her stomach she probably would've fallen asleep then and there. For a moment, the happy smile of a contented lover was the only expression on her face, before more of her brain resumed functioning and she could grasp the enormity of her experience.

"By Dust, Cinder, that was…..amazing," said Emerald softly, her breathing still slightly labored.

"I take care of my investments, Ms. Sustrai, and I consider you one of my most prized assets." Cinder's words, delivered in a tone that bordered on disinterest, caused pride to swell in the young woman's chest. "If you can complete the tasks I've assigned you - without further incident - and you may explore just how deep my generosity is." A pause. "I needn't remind you that this experience can be repeated without the pleasurable ending should I find your efforts wanting."

"Of course, ma'am," stuttered Emerald.

"Now go. Rewrite that paper and present it to Professor Goodwitch before the week's end. I advocate for many sins, Emerald, but slothful work is not one of them."

"Y-yes, ma'am," replied Emerald, elated that Cinder's trust in her seemed to be restored, that things were back to normal.

She turned to exit the dorm room, only to feel Cinder's hand slap her ass once more. Spinning around, Emerald was taken aback at the site of Cinder offering her a mischievous grin. Emerald mirrored it without thought, and skipped all the way to the library.

Much, much better than normal.


End file.
